


A Twist in The Tale

by OccasionallyCreative



Category: Ever After (1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Drama, F/M, Family, Flashbacks, Friendship, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyCreative/pseuds/OccasionallyCreative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. On the night of the masque, Prince Henry reveals that he knew all along about Danielle's true identity. However, the consequences are not what he believed they would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelations & Differences.

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly Henry's POV, though with POVs from a variety of other characters as well. Italics represent flashbacks.

The Baroness Rodmilla de Ghent felt sick to the core. Seeing Danielle standing there, in her dead mother's wedding dress of all things! It should've been Marguerite standing there! Rodmilla glanced over at her daughter, who looked crestfallen, and immediately knew how she felt. The wealth that she believed she deserved was slipping out of her fingers quicker than she thought possible. Anger rose up inside of her, as did a plan. Quickly, she grasped Marguerite's hand and pulled her through the crowd.

"What are you doing?" she asked, bewildered.

"Making you a princess!" Rodmilla snapped. She didn't have time to answer silly questions. Paris at Christmas was quickly slipping through her fingers, if they didn't hurry. Quickly, her eyes searched the crowd, finally fixing on Danielle and the Prince, the two of them running down the aisle and she knew she didn't have much time left before they reached the King. She had to do something! On impulse, she dived through the crowd and reached out.

Her fingers and palms scratched wire and stretched gossamer. Gripping hard, she pulled. Her ears filled with Danielle's shocked screams and the crowd gasps of horror as she threw the tattered wing to the ground. The Prince whipped around, glaring furiously at her.

"Baroness, what are you doing?"

"This woman is a fraud!" Rodmilla shouted, her cheeks flushed. She turned on her heel, towards Danielle. "Of all the things, making your mother a Comtesse!"

Danielle was near to tears. Desperate, she looked towards Henry who appeared aghast.

"Her real name is Danielle de Barbarac," Rodmilla continued, "and she has been a servant in my household for the past ten years!"

She had not even got halfway through her sentence before the Prince was laughing. Far from being angry, he appeared to be delighted.

"Thank you Baroness."

"I... Pardon, Your Highness?" Rodmilla's mouth hung open then closed again. Marguerite quickly stepped back into the crowd, not wishing to be a part of this. Danielle stared wide-eyed at the Prince, her expression a mixture of relief, confusion and fear.

"I had suspected for some months the true identity of this woman. Thank you for confirming it."

#

_Henry galloped quickly through the fields. The horse he was riding was old and already tired, but it was better than nothing. He looked back and could see the Royal Guards, just a good few feet away from him. They'd got faster since last time, clearly._

_"Damn," he muttered and he squeezed the sides of the horse, clinging tightly onto the reins as it leapt over a small hedge into a large hay field. His eyes registered the figure of a woman, but his brain did not and he continued to gallop faster and faster. The horse knew this ground, knew which potholes to avoid. Suddenly, above the shouts of the Royal Guards he heard a female voice shouting at him._

_"Thief!"_

_Something small and green spun towards him, and hit him squarely in the head. Thrown by the force of the throw, he quickly fell backwards, landing on his back. Quickly, he scrabbled back up to his feet and scrabbled at his cloak. It was imperative above everything that he wasn't seen. All the while, the girl had continued to pelt him with apples._

_"My horse lost a shoe, and I had to make do!"_

_"That is my father's horse! Do you expect me to let you steal it?!" the girl yelled as she threw another apple, this time at Henry's foot. Henry dodged it, and he felt the hood of his cloak slip off. He looked at the girl. With piercing blue eyes and long brown hair, she was breathtaking. Utterly breathtaking. The girl gasped and promptly fell to the ground in an attempt to beg for mercy. He didn't see any need for her to do so--he was sure that one look from those eyes was enough to make God forgive any sin._

_"Forgive me Your Highness, for I did not see you!" The girl cried. Henry was more than willing to continue their conversation--however strange it may be--but the sound of hooves caused him to glance back. The Royal Guards. They were close enough to be heard, but not yet close enough to be seen. Still, he didn't have time so he quickly jumped back onto the horse._

_"I am willing to forgive, if you keep your silence," Henry said quickly, dropping gold coins onto the girl's back. As if on cue, the horn of the Royal Guards sounded and he could just see Laurent at the head of the party. Now he definitely did not have time. Squeezing the sides of the horse, he galloped away again, the piercing blue eyes of the girl already embedded into his brain._

#

The crowd was still, as one by one, all of the guests turned their heads to look towards the aisle. Henry smiled lovingly at Danielle, who still appeared shocked at his revelation. After a moment of tense silence, King Francis stepped forward, red with anger.

"A servant, Henry? Is this some kind of a joke?" he asked, his voice echoing in the night air. A short distance away, thunder rolled in the sky as Henry glanced at his parents and shook his head. Queen Marie sighed, just happy that her son was happy. Contrastingly, Francis was now practically puce in the face, watching as Henry looked back towards Danielle. There was another, even longer, moment of silence. Slowly, she stepped back and pulled her hand from his.

"My love?" Henry asked, frowning. Danielle softly shook her head.

"All this time... you knew?"

"Yes," he said simply, nodding.

"You watched me lie?"

"No... Not technically," he murmured, puzzled. So he hadn't told her that he knew who she was, but what did it matter? The truth was known now. They could be together. Danielle shook her head. Sobbing, she ran back down the aisle. Without even looking at any of the guests or his parents, he gave chase, just as thunder rolled in the sky, much closer now.

#

Just outside the castle gates, he caught up with her. It was now starting to rain heavily, but neither Henry nor Danielle could see anything apart from each other.

"Danielle! Wait!"

She continued to run down the path, shaking her head as her shoulders heaved from her sobs. Feeling desperate, he clutched at her arm, causing her to spin round.

"Leave me alone!" she pleaded as she tried to weave her arm out of Henry's grip.

"Just tell me what's wrong! If you're scared about what my father will say then… well, okay, you have every right to be worried, but he disagrees with everything I do anyway!"

"It isn't your father, Henry! It's you!"

Henry blinked, taken aback. His skin crawled, feeling cold. Was she rejecting him? Him, the Crown Prince of France? Danielle wiped her eyes quickly before speaking, though it hardly helped her with the storm raging around them.

"Do you not realise how much of a risk I took, impersonating a courtier? I could've been shipped to the Americas, or even killed for my deceit! And you, you stand there, laughing, as if it is all a jest!"

Henry shook his head in confusion, still not quite understanding.

"Danielle, my love, I… I only…"

"Only what? Did you sit back and let me risk my life just so you would have something--or someone--to entertain you? Because I did not impersonate a courtier to become your personal jester Henry, I did what I had to do to save an innocent man's life!"

Henry scowled, his anger replacing his confusion. Deep down, he knew she was right, but he was not--if ever--ready to admit he was in the wrong.

"Is that all you think of me, Comtesse?" he asked venomously. "Someone who is selfish, vain and arrogant?"

She did not speak for a long time. However, when she did finally speak, her words stung his skin like an open wound.

"When I first met you, yes. Then, with all our adventures and as I got to know you as a man, and not a prince… I began to think better of you. Yet, knowing what I know now, I fear that you are not the man I thought, or even hoped you were."

Thunder rolled in the sky again, almost bursting his eardrums. Her chest started to heave again as her eyes spurted fresh tears. Quickly, she turned and ran down the pathway, with her one tattered wing hanging limply by her side.

He scowled and walked back down the pathway. He was the Crown Prince of France! How dare she speak to him in that way! And she, a mere servant girl, spouting dreams of a utopia where equality reigned supreme? Who was she to judge? She only went by Thomas Moore, and whatever else her father used to read to her. Apparently this qualified her to talk of politics and God knows what else. Pride bled into him like dangerous venom.

"A servant girl," he thought bitterly, "I would not care for a servant girl if she was the last woman on this earth."

#

Leonardo walked slowly back to the castle, smiling happily. It had been a good evening, all things considered. And now, he would be welcomed back and he would find everything--and everyone--content and happy. At least, that was what he thought. His hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of a rain-soaked Danielle running down the path. One of her wings was missing, and the other was destroyed beyond repair.

"Danielle? Danielle!" he called, more than a little bewildered. Immediately, she stopped, tripping over the hem of her gown. He ran to her, and helped her up.

"It's ruined Leonardo…" she said between tears.

"What? What's ruined?"

Danielle sobbed again.

"He knew Leonardo! He knew of my deceit!" she sobbed. Leonardo scowled, angry at receiving this news. Everything he'd taught Henry... and he had disregarded practically all of it. But before he could learn more, Danielle was running down the path again, leaving behind just one solitary glass slipper.

#

The crowd was quiet when Henry returned. Every courtier, every servant was looking at him with the distinct guilty expression that told him just exactly what they had been talking about: him. His fists clenched tightly and he stalked up the aisle, his mind filled with Danielle's voice, tearfully accusing him of arrogance and selfishness. Before he knew where he was going, he found himself stopping in front of his parents. His mother looked sympathetic, whereas his father appeared as he always did when Henry was around: angry.

"Well? Care to explain?" his father asked, his tone clipped.

"There will be no announcement tonight. I am unwell, and will retire early. Goodnight." Quickly, he bowed to his parents and moved past them towards the castle. Francis sighed, and turned to his wife.

"I suppose it is to be Spain."

"Indeed," Marie murmured, frowning in concern. Whoever the mysterious girl was, she somehow knew that she was her son's true match.

Maybe it was the way the girl had held herself in those few seconds before Baroness Rodmilla had charged in, proclaiming her to be a fraud. Or perhaps it was the way in which Henry had stared at her. His eyes had been sparkled with life and his smile… it had been a long time since Henry had smiled at anything. He had always been so busy fighting with Francis--that or running away. Marie sighed. Something had to be done. Noticing that Francis was now more preoccupied with talking to Captain Laurent, she quietly slipped away, leaving the courtiers and servants to discuss the night's events in vivid detail.


	2. Explanations & Recollections.

It was a little while later, but the gossip still had not died down. The furtive glances from the guests had not stopped. Henry sat underneath the barracks of the castle, his legs curled up to his chin. He was sulking, and quite rightly too (according to him at least). The knowledge of the fact that a servant had told him more about himself than his father had done over the more recent years of his life… well, it made his blood boil. Suddenly, he could hear footsteps running towards him. He looked up, and saw an angry looking Leonardo da Vinci standing over him. In his hand was one of Danielle's glass slippers.

"You knew? You knew that she was a servant?" he asked, his voice quaking with fury.

"So what?"

"Do you have any idea of what that girl has gone through?"

"She impersonated a courtier. What difference is that to me?"

"The difference is that you knew about it! You sat back and watched her risk her life! And for what?"

Henry looked quickly away, his fists clenching tightly again. It was not Leonardo's words that had an effect on him, but rather it was his inability to provide a reason. He did not know why he had let Danielle lie. He had just found her so enchanting, her passion so intriguing that he did not think of the practicalities.

Leonardo sighed and sadly placed the glass slipper onto the wall. Clearly, he would not get any explanations from Henry, or indeed anyone, tonight. Momentarily defeated, he turned on his heels and walked away, leaving Henry alone with his own thoughts. After a few moments, Henry got up. He walked towards the glass slipper and he picked it up, clutched to his chest.  
 _Then you don't deserve her._  
Gradually, he began to remember.

#

_Riding back into the Royal court with a smug Captain Laurent trotting along beside him, Henry knew that his arrival would be greeted with some gossip. However, when he arrived, no-one turned to look at him and wonder where he had tried to run away to this time. No. Instead, the court's attention was held by a curious event taking place a little way off from the entrance to the court. A lady--wearing a dress that certainly looked like a noblewoman's dress, but at the same time appeared tired and worn--was talking heatedly with the slave trader. A withered-looking old man was staring at the young noblewoman, almost in relief. Unsure whether to feel curious, relieved or even envious, he steered his horse towards the scene, with the courtiers quickly making a path for him._

_"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" the slave trader yelled, startling the poor young lady. A feeling of chivalry moved inside of Henry, and he spoke._

_"You dare raise your voice to a lady sir?"_

_The slave trader chuckled nervously, and babbled a long, sycophantic apology. Henry did not remain listening to the man for long as his eyes were drawn to the young lady. He watched as she turned to face him, and he had to bite back his tongue to prevent himself from calling out her deception._

_It was the same servant girl who'd assaulted him that very morning! All at once, fear, annoyance and admiration washed over him in spades. Her blue eyes were lowered, as she nervously curtseyed before him. He narrowed his eyes slightly, watching her. For some reason, he preferred the girl in her other dress rather than the one she wore now. She did not suit the outright opulence of the noblemen. Suddenly, he realized that the slave trader was still talking._

_"I'm following orders here. It's my job to take these thieves to the coast!"_

_The withered-looking old man clutched at the railings of the slave trader's coach, shaking a little. The servant girl's mouth dropped slightly in horror, and she looked quickly towards the withered-looking old man and then back to Henry._

_"A servant is not a thief Your Highness, and those who are cannot help themselves."_

_For a servant, she was far more eloquent than he would have expected._

_"Really? Well then, by all means. Enlighten us."_

_The girl swallowed slightly, nervous of his sudden curiosity. Though, if she knew that his curiosity was centred on her and not her words, that was something which he could not tell. He watched as the girl fixed her eyes on his, ready to speak. For a servant girl risking being thrown into jail simply to save another man from slavery, she had courage. It was something which Henry found both admirable and a little amusing. He watched as the girl moved towards him, her speech becoming more and more impassioned with every word she spoke._

_"If you suffer your people to be ill-educated and their manners corrupted from infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded, sire, but that you first make thieves and then punish them?"_

_Henry raised an eyebrow. Anyone who could quote Utopia--even a servant-- must be someone worth attention. Take into account the way she looked at the old man in such a pitiful manner and he didn't even have to hesitate in his decision. He looked towards the slave trader._

_"Well, there you have it. Release him."_

_The slave trader frowned, his brain apparently unable to process this new order._

_"But… sire…"_

_Henry sighed impatiently. He was far too tired from the morning's events to argue with a simple slave trader._

_"I said, release him!"_

_The courtiers immediately began whispering among themselves, glad to have something new to talk about. Henry watched the girl smile happily and walk towards the withered-looking old man. He watched as she leant towards him, whispered something in his ear and then straightened herself up, regal and noble._

_"Prepare the horses! We leave at once!"_

_The withered-looking old man hurried off towards the bridge, and the girl turned and walked once more towards Henry. She smiled, curtsied and thanked him. He began to smile warmly at her, but she simply walked past him without another glance._

_Feeling a little perturbed, he jumped from his horse and walked towards her. She looked over her shoulder, and saw him. Without hesitation, she increased her speed. Henry chuckled playfully. It seemed that a little game was in order._

_"Have we met?" At this, the girl looked back at him again, automatically slowing her pace, which allowed for Henry to fall into step with her. She hesitated before answering, her calm and assured manner--so present just moments before--now gone._

_"I-I do not believe so, Your Highness." She continued walking. Henry smiled slightly._

_"I could've sworn I knew every courtier here in the province."_

_"I do not live in this province, Your Highness. I am visiting a cousin."_

_For a servant on such precarious ground, he had to admit: she was clever._

_"Oh? Who?"_

_"My cousin."_

_He had to suppress a small chuckle. He didn't know exactly why, but there was something so very charming about watching the girl attempt to keep her wits about her._

_"You said that. What I want to know is which cousin?"_

_"The only one I have, sire."_

_This manner was no longer charming. It was really becoming a mild annoyance._

_"Are you being deliberately vague? Are you honestly refusing to give me your name?"_

_The girl stopped quickly, narrowing her eyes slightly. They were so beautiful. It almost rendered him dumb for a moment._

_"No," she paused again. "And yes." She continued walking. However, Henry was not prepared to let her get away. That would mean two things: first, he would've lost this… whatever it was and second… well, he couldn't quite think of a second reason. He just wanted to talk to her, hear her speak._

_"Well, then, tell me your cousin's name so that I might call upon her to learn your identity. For anyone who can quote Thomas Moore is well worth the effort."_

_The girl finally stopped her expression a mixture of surprise and admiration._

_"The Prince has read Utopia?" she breathed. Henry laughed contemptuously._

_"I found it to be nothing more than sentimental and dull. I must admit, the plight of the everyday rustics bores me." He could not help but smirk slightly as he spoke, whereas the girl's expression darkened slightly._

_"I gather that you do not converse with many peasants," she said dryly. Henry laughed. The irony of the situation amused him so very much; he was more than willing to continue it._

_"Ha, certainly not, no!" he paused for a moment, smirking. "Naturally."_

_The girl scowled and she quickly began walking away. When she spoke again, her voice was sharp and angry._

_"Forgive me, sire, but there is nothing natural about it. A country's character is defined by its "everyday rustics", as you call them. They are the legs you stand on and that position demands respect, not..."_

_His smile widened. Her dislike of him was greatly amusing, and not at all surprising. Heavens, most of the servants in the castle thought of him as an arrogant little toerag, but only this girl had had the actual courage to say it directly to him._

_"Am I to understand that you find me arrogant?" he asked impishly._

_The girl sighed, as if it was painfully obvious. His pride wounded slightly, Henry felt tempted to tell her that he knew of her deceit, but those blue eyes of hers… they really were rather enchanting._

_"You gave one man back his life, but did you even look at the others?" the girl asked. Henry's smile faded. He looked towards the slave trader's wagon, and for a moment, he was struck by an awful thought: maybe, just maybe, she was right. He looked back, and saw that the girl was now by the gate. Like the Royal Guard, she moved awfully fast when she wished to. Henry quickly gave chase, a smart retort ready and waiting. He bounded in front of her, causing her to stop suddenly and look up at him. Henry's prepared retort dissolved quickly on his tongue, and his brain could only think of one thing to say:_

_"Please, I beg of you, a name. Any name."_

_The girl looked at him for a moment, her mouth formed into a little half-smile. Henry waited for her reply impatiently. He did not care if she lied to him. He only wanted her to speak, to say anything at all._

_"Your Highness, I fear the only name that I can leave you with... is Comtesse Nicole du Lancre." The girl's smile widened slightly as she remembered something. Henry smiled too, and finally let the girl move off. Although, watching her walk away, he could not resist making her look back at him at least once._

_"There now," he called, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"_

_The girl smiled slightly. It seemed as if she was tempted to stay and converse with him more, but suddenly, the Queen appeared, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting. She called out Henry's name, her arms and smile wide in welcome. His smile tightened._

_"Hello mother," he said flatly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl's smile fall. He did not blame her. Any servant was nervous when the Queen was present, let alone a servant impersonating a courtier._

_"The King would like a word with you," the Queen declared. Henry smirked._

_"He usually does! I will be right in."_

_His mother took this as a yes, and went back inside. Henry rolled his eyes, and looked back to where the girl had been standing. She was nowhere to be seen. Henry's smirk fell. Now where had she gone?_


	3. Consolations & Contradictions.

Henry sat on his bed, cross and still angry. He would've calmed down by now, but he could not get the image of Danielle standing there in the rain, out of his mind. It both saddened and agitated him to know that she was somewhere out there, crying and upset. He was torn. One part of him wanted to go out and find her so he could tell her how sorry he was. But that would be admitting that he was in the wrong, and whatever happened, he was not prepared to do that. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Leave me be!" he snapped quickly, assuming it to be another one of the servants inquiring as to his health. He was surprised to hear his mother's voice bleed through the doorway.

"Henry dear, I need to know what ails you. I ask you, please, let me in."

Henry wrestled with his thoughts for a long while, but the Queen did not make any immediate demands on him. She simply waited. At last, he moved off from his bed and towards the door, opening it. The Queen instantly clasped him tight, sighing with relief.

"Darling, tell me what is wrong. You seemed so joyous when that girl arrived at the ball!"

"That girl's name is Danielle de Barbarac, and I do not wish to speak about her, to you or anyone else," he said coldly, approaching his bed and throwing down on it, tightly crossing his arms across his chest. Marie sighed gently and placed an hand on his shoulder.

"That is unfortunate," she mused. After a moment, she leaned forward to whisper in Henry's ear. "For I dearly wish to know about her, and how she came to steal my son's heart."

Quickly, Henry scowled at his mother. He hadn't had his heart stolen… just… borrowed. His mother laughed lightly as she walked towards the bed. Gently, she sat down beside her son.

"Darling, I saw the way you looked at her tonight. No man ever looks at a girl like that if he is not in love."

"She does not love me Mother. She made it clear."

"Oh, how so?"

"She left me," he muttered softly, with the image of Danielle walking away from him, tattered wing hanging by her side again filling his brain. It was too much for him to bear, to think of her in that way. He tried to think of her when they had met in the hay field, but the image of her in the rain continued to push through, refusing to leave him alone.

"Henry… did she absolutely say she did not love you?"

"She… told me I…" he sighed, and after a few moments, shook his head. Marie sighed again.

"Then what is there to be sad, or indeed angry, about?"

The image of Danielle walking away from him reared up in his mind again, and finally, after all of his hollow anger, he realised exactly the reason why he had been so ill-tempered.

"I failed her, Mother," he murmured. "I knew that she was a servant, yet I let her continue pretending." The words were hard for him to say, but he had said them, but still the confession hung in the air between them like a heavy fog on a cold winter's day. Marie carefully caressed her son's cheek, sympathy shining in her eyes. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her.

"My dear son, you cannot blame her for what she did. She is hurt."

"But why? I risked Father's anger for her!"

"Oh, Henry! She risked her life!" Marie said, a little irritated. Henry nodded sadly. To compare his father's anger with Danielle's life was a mistake. The gulf between them was far too wide.

"Sweetheart, you must realise that your actions will hold consequences, even if those actions are for love," Marie said softly, and she drew her hand away from Henry's cheek. She then moved off the bed and towards the doors, turning back at the last moment.

"I must attend to the guests. I shall tell them that you have been taken ill and shall not be rejoining the festivities."

After a long moment, he muttered a soft "thank you." Marie smiled a half-smile and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Henry failed to sleep that night, his thoughts taken up by the one woman who'd ever really stood up to him.

#

_It was always going to be a challenge to try and find true love in five days, especially when the person to whom the challenge had been given was Henry, who could be indecisive at the best of times. Luckily, he had Leonardo da Vinci on hand to help him._

_The sun was warm on the day when he and Leonardo visited the lake. The main purpose of their visit had been for Leonardo to show Henry his brand new project, though quite what it was had remained a mystery. As Leonardo prepared for the grand reveal of his project, Henry stood at the shore of the lake, skipping stones whilst rambling thoughtfully._

_"Do you really think there can only be one perfect mate?"_

_"Indeed I do," Leonardo said matter-of-factly, more focused on his preparations than helping Henry philosophise._

_"Well then how can you be certain to find them?" Henry asked quickly. However, before Leonardo could even breathe, he was off again. "And if you do find them, are they really the one for you or do you only think they are? And what happens if the person you're supposed to be with never appears, or, she does, but you're too distracted to notice?"_

_Leonardo sighed._

_"My boy, you simply learn to pay attention!"_

_Henry was still not satisfied. Frowning slightly, he threw a stone into the water, and it skipped gracefully over the water before sinking, rather suddenly, into the middle of the lake. Henry turned back to Leonardo._

_"Then let's say God puts two people on Earth and they are lucky enough to find one another. But one of them gets hit by lightning. Well then what? Is that it? Or, perchance, you meet someone new and marry all over again. Is that the lady you're supposed to be with or was it the first? And if so, when the two of them were walking side by side, were they both the one for you and you just happened to meet the first one first, or, was the second one supposed to be first? And is everything just… chance? Or are some things meant to be?"_

_Leonardo watched Henry babble, and wondered exactly why the boy always insisted on overcomplicating things._

_"You cannot leave everything to fate boy! She has a lot to do! Sometimes, you must give her a hand!"_

_Henry nodded, and then shrugged. Leonardo continued with his preparations. It was then that Henry finally realised what Leonardo had insisted they go out to the lake for, and he promptly laughed. For what Leonardo was carrying was, to put it simply, something that only madmen would think of. They were mini boats, but they had a strange sort of shoe contraption inside them._

_"What's this project?" Henry asked, still laughing._

_"Care to see if they work?" Leonardo asked, his eyes twinkling like a giddy eight year old schoolboy._

_It took a few minutes for Leonardo to attach the shoes to his feet, but once he was done, he stepped onto the lake. At first he was tentative and a little shaky on foot, but once he became used to the idea, he was off like a shot. Henry sat on the shore, watching Leonardo walk down the lake. He couldn't help but laugh gaily at the sight. Man, walking on water! This was one of the forefathers of forward thinking, and he was making shoes that could walk on water! The whole idea was deliciously absurd._

_Knowing that Leonardo would not be back for quite a while yet, Henry got up and began to take a stroll inside the forest by the lake. The mood was peaceful and calming. For the first time in his life, Henry's head didn't ache with the thought of responsibility. It was a momentary escape from his gilded cage._

_Suddenly, there was a terrible scream! It sounded like a woman's, but it was quickly followed by another scream--this time clearly belonging to Leonardo--and finally, a splash as Leonardo finally lost balance and toppled backwards into the water. Henry turned and ran from the forest towards the shore._

_"Signore da Vinci!" he called, "are you all right?"_

_"I should leave walking on water to the Son of God. Fortunately, I tripped over an angel," Leonardo declared cheerfully. Henry didn't have to ask the reason for his mood, for he could see the reason right before him. There she was, the servant girl!_

_"It's... you! Comtesse!" he cried, grinning joyously. The girl gasped._

_"Your Highness... OH!" the girl cried out as she slipped over in the water. Henry's smile slipped for a moment, and he watched as Leonardo helped the girl up onto her feet. The girl smiled, trying to cover up her mistake._

_"Careful, it's... uh... very slippery right there."_

_Henry nodded, but said nothing, his smile having quickly returned on seeing hers. He found her charming whatever she did. Instead, he took off his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. The girl smiled her brilliant smile at him._

_"Thank you," she said. Henry smiled back. It was rather contagious, her smile. Leonardo watched the two of them, and he thought to himself, "Maybe... just maybe the boy hasn't got that much of a challenge on his hands after all."_

_The minutes seemed to go by much more slowly when Henry was around the girl. It felt like that he didn't have any responsibilities or titles, or even an arranged marriage to worry about. He just had time, and lots of it, all to spend with her. Though these feelings did make him feel content at least, he still couldn't help but continue his game. He just wanted to see how she would act, or even what she would say._

_"Where are your attendants?" he asked her. The girl shrugged._

_"I gave them the day off."_

_"A day off? From what, life?" Henry exclaimed, chuckling. It was a clever – yet ridiculous – lie. Servants didn't have days off, certainly not from where he came from. The girl sighed._

_"Don't you ever tire of people waiting on you all the time?"_

_Henry glanced at her quickly. How did she do it? How could she tell what he was thinking so well? No-one else ever could, not even Henry himself. Still, he had to give her an answer._

_"Yes, but they are servants, Comtesse. It's what they do."_

_The girl's smile disappeared, replaced by a deadly look of coldness. Henry instantly felt guilty. For a moment, he'd forgotten who he had been speaking to._

_"I wish I could dismiss my people as easily as you do yours," the girl said, quickly rising onto her feet and walking away. Henry scrambled up, following her._

_"Are you angry with me?"_

_The girl stopped, but did not turn to look at him._

_"No."_

_"You are! You're angry with me, admit it!"_

_The girl sighed a heavy sigh, and slowly she turned towards him._

_"If you want to know, then yes, I'm angry with you."_

_"For whatever reason?" Henry asked quickly, trying to suppress his urge to laugh._

_"Because..." the girl stopped, trying to think of something to say. "You are trying to bait me with your snobbery."_

_Henry thought for a moment, wondering what he could say, for he was not yet ready to reveal his knowledge of her being a servant just yet._

_"Mademoiselle, I'm afraid to tell you that you are a walking contradiction."_

_"Oh? How so?" the girl asked, holding her head up high so the sunlight glinted in her eyes. He really did find them most distracting._

_"Well, you spout the ideals of a utopian society, yet live the life of a courtier."_

_"You own all the land there is in the country, yet you take no pride in working it! Is that not also a contradiction?"_

_Henry blinked, slightly taken aback. He had never met someone--be it a courtier or a servant--with this much ability to let their passion overtake their station._

_"How do you do it?" he murmured. The girl narrowed her eyes slightly, both confused and curious._

_"Do what?"_

_"Live with such... passion, each and every day. It must be exhausting."_

_"Only when I'm around you," the girl quipped. "Why do you like to irritate me so?"_

_Henry smiled, and leaned close towards her._

_"Why do you rise to the occasion?"_

_The girl instantly began to laugh, her eyes sparkling and her smile wide. Henry could not help but join in with her laughter._

_Suddenly, a little way off, the black-haired daughter of Baroness Rodmilla (Henry dimly remembered her name to be Jacqueline) stood at the shore of the lake, calling._

_"Danielle! Danielle!"_

_Henry looked towards the girl, who appeared nervous and panicked. So, that was her name. Danielle. Looking at her, it suited her much better than "Comtesse Nicole de Lancre". Danielle--as she was now known--took Henry's cloak from her shoulders, and gave it back to him, saying:_

_"Forgive me Your Highness, I have lost track of the hour!" Quickly, she began to run away from him. Leonardo, carrying his flying machine, advanced on Danielle, looking crestfallen._

_"But the wind! It's perfect!"_

_"Forgive me," she repeated and she continued running. On impulse, Henry called out to her._

_"I'm playing tennis tomorrow, will you come?"_

_"I must go!" Danielle called as she ran back towards the forest. A few moments passed as both Leonardo and Henry registered her quick disappearance. Still, at least Henry now knew her name._


	4. Refusals & Romance.

After the drama of the evening, it was fair to say that the numerous revellers of the ball all headed to their own homes in their carriages feeling quite satisfied in the knowledge that they had something new to talk about at court tomorrow. Meanwhile, Henry lay in his bed, still unable to sleep. The talk with his mother had done little good; he needed to see Danielle, explain to her why he had done what he had. So he quickly jumped out of bed and got dressed. He then took his sheets, made a rope--something which he was rather an expert at--and he tied it to the end of his bed. Careful not to make a sound, he moved over to the window and peeked down. There were no guards to speak of, and if he fell, he would only land on the soft earth. He swiftly threw the rope over the window ledge and climbed out. Once on the ground he ran to the stables and 'borrowed' his father's horse (his own horse was too slow for this journey). After making it ready and jumping onto its back, he squeezed its sides and it flew into a gallop. It seemed to cover miles and miles of ground before Henry even had time to think.

Before too long, he was at Danielle's home. Practically leaping from the horse, he ran to the front door and not caring if he woke anyone up, he banged loudly on the door with his fist.

"Danielle! Danielle!" he called loudly, "Danielle!"

Suddenly, the door opened and there stood another servant, one he did not recognise. However, her expression was one of sympathy.

"I'm sorry Your Highness, but she doesn't wish to speak to you," was all that the servant said to him.

"Please, just let me in. I have to speak to her," he pleaded. The servant shook her head.

"Again, I'm sorry Your Highness, but she expressed a wish to be left alone." The servant quietly shut the door, but Henry was not one to accept defeat so readily and he banged on the door again, calling for Danielle to come out.

He was there for what felt like eternity, but no-one answered the door. Defeated, he slowly walked away from the house and got back onto the horse, riding away into the darkness. If he had looked back, he may have noticed a small blue-eyed figure open an upstairs window and look out, watching him leave. And if he'd looked a little closer, he would've seen that she was crying.

#

_Henry was unsure of what to think of the day's events. First, he'd chased Danielle to her house – him on horseback, she on foot – then second; the two of them had spent a beautiful afternoon together in the library at the monastery. Thirdly, they had then been set upon by gypsies. And now, somehow, he found himself at the gypsy camp surrounded by cheering, drunken gypsies whilst playing "Rock, Paper, Scissors" with an equally drunk Danielle. His father would've rather died than know of his presence here. Once more, he and Danielle found themselves at a draw: both of them had chosen paper. Danielle giggled._

_"You are reading my thoughts my lord."_

_"Then they are as fuzzy as my own!" Henry teased. Danielle smiled brightly._

_"So France concedes?"_

_Henry's pride was one aspect of his personality which had remained undiminished by the alcohol._

_"Never!" he shouted. Danielle nodded, presumably admitting defeat. Feeling playful, he leaned towards her, his blurred thoughts again picking up on just how beautiful her eyes looked in the firelight._

_"My next choice... will be paper," he told her. She smiled slyly, and they played again, and Danielle showed her hand as a rock, whilst Henry showed his to be... scissors. It was most striking to think that she was intending to let him win._

_"It is your turn!" she said loudly, "and it had better be good."_

_Henry looked at her for a moment, watching her drink from her tankard. Even when she was drunk, she was still the utmost image of beauty. A certain lack of security overcame him. He felt that right now, he could tell her anything and she would never tell anyone unless he asked her to._

_"I have no desire to be king."_

_Danielle stared at him for a long while. She frowned slightly, as if this was the most ludicrous thing she had ever heard. Henry watched her, apprehensive. He did not wish to upset her, far from it._

_"Why?" she asked. "I mean, think of the wonderful things you could do!"_

_"Yes, I know, but to be so restricted by your station..."_

_"What? And these gypsies are not?"_

_"They are gypsies. That is all," Henry snapped._

_"And yet, they are painted as thieves and criminals, and nothing else. They are just as defined by their station as you are to yours."_

_He did not quite know why, but her words touched him deeply. She seemed to have this magical ability to see into him and pinpoint exactly why he was so angered by the world and its people. Clearly, she had taken this silence of his as anger, and she trailed off into silence._

_A moment passed between them, the atmosphere somewhere between contentment and awkwardness as the two of them tried to decide what to say next._

_"I am sorry," she whispered, "my mouth has run away with me again."_

_Henry continued to look at her. Finally, he leaned towards her, a slight smile forming on his lips._

_"No. My lady, it is your mouth that has me hypnotised." Without one more word, he pressed his lips to hers. As they kissed, it felt to Henry as if it was only the two of them within the whole world._

_Suddenly, the gypsy leader noticed them, and he cried out joyously, teasing them. Danielle pulled away from Henry, smiling slightly, her expression glowing with happiness. Henry smiled back._

_It was extremely quiet when they got back to Danielle's house. A little way off from the house, she asked Henry to stop, and he gladly did so. Anything she asked of him, he would gladly do it. Such a lady could not be allowed a refusal from anything. He jumped from the horse, and helped Danielle down. They caught each other's eye, and the two of them could not help but smile._

_"You saved my life back there you know," he murmured._

_"A girl does what she can sire," she said, barely able to contain her happiness. Henry rolled his eyes at the word "sire"._

_"Henry. Please."_

_Danielle chewed on her bottom lip, smiling happily._

_"Henry." The name had never meant much to him, but when she said it, he felt like he could do anything, anything at all. Unable to resist, he kissed her once more. Her eyes and smile bright, Danielle walked down the path, and he watched her, smiling still. He knew now, that he was in love with her, for she completed him, body and soul._


	5. Declarations & Exchanges.

_Henry waited impatiently at the ruins. He tried to read Utopia (he had become addicted to it in the last few days) but he could not focus. He felt strange, somewhere between nervous and excited. He wanted so badly to show Danielle the ruins, see what she thought of them--as he knew that she was only one who would be able to understand his love for them, but he was nervous. Apart from his father, he had never truly been to the ruins with anyone else but himself._

_This was his place, his world and he was going to let someone else in. He breathed out slowly. He had to calm down. This was the right thing to do. He had it all figured out in his head: he would show Danielle the ruins, confess his love and tell her the one truth he'd been hiding all along. That he knew of her true station as a servant. He just wished that she would get here soon. He knew that he would feel better once she was here, standing in front of him._

_He was so wrapped inside his own thoughts that he did not hear Danielle come in. He only knew of her presence once she called his name. By the way she said it, he knew something was wrong. Her voice was not content and self-assured. It was quiet, and nervous. Henry looked up, and he jumped from the ledge where he'd been sitting, walking towards her._

_"I thought you weren't coming."_

_Danielle swallowed slightly, her eyes brimming with tears._

_"I fear that I am not myself today."_

_His heart swelled then nearly broke at the sight of her. She looked so very unhappy, and if there was one thing he didn't want her to be, it was that. And he knew he should help her, but he didn't know how to._

_"Your Highness..."_

_"Henry."_

_"H... Henry, there is something I must tell you."_

_So that was her reason for coming. She was here to tell him the truth. Guilt pinched at him, but he brushed it away._

_"I also have something to tell you," he murmured, stepping towards her and taking her hand. His mind was filled with so many thoughts and ideas; he hardly knew where to start. He looked at her, smiling slightly and he began to walk through the ruins, happily telling her his life story. He had no reason for telling her, but the sight of her made him want to tell her everything that he could. As he spoke, he could see Danielle struggling to keep her composure._

_"You're not making this easy..." she said softly, her voice trembling. Henry stopped, and looked at her. Her eyes, her bright, beautiful, blue eyes were damp with tears. It made Henry's heart break to watch her strive to keep up her pretence. Slowly, he stepped towards her and softly caressed her cheek._

_"You... are unlike anyone I have ever met," he murmured quietly. "Tomorrow at the masque, I shall make it known to the world."_

_It was a long time before Danielle spoke again._

_"Why did you have to be so wonderful?" she whispered sadly, her tears trailing down her cheeks. Henry smiled slightly, lifting up her chin with his finger. The sunlight burst through the trees, and dappled sunlight fell across her face. Whatever he intended to ask her was gone. Softly and lovingly, he pressed his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist. Suddenly, she cried out in pain and pulled away from him. Henry stared at her, bewildered. She stared back, tears streaming down her face._

_"No... No, no..." she murmured, running away. Henry stared after her, feeling hopeless._

_"Danielle..." he whispered softly. But it was no use. She was already gone._

#

Rodmilla stood over the gardens, gleefully watching Danielle working away. It had been approximately two weeks since the ball (and Henry's midnight visit), and Rodmilla hadn't yet tired of teasing her step-daughter about her wasted chance.

"I have it on good authority that before you turned up,"Rodmilla said these last two words with a particular bite, "the Prince was going to choose Marguerite as his bride."

Danielle gave no response, but instead continued with her work, for she had become immune to her stepmother's jibes and abuse over the years. Rodmilla--sensing her unaffected attitude--tried again.

"Men are so fickle, aren't they?" she crowed, "one minute they are spouting declarations of love, the next you're back to being the hired help." She suddenly laughed high and coldly, reveling in the sight of her daughter's once-rival being forced to work for her all over again.

"I must say, I have never seen you quite this dedicated in your chores."

Danielle bit back a smart remark. Instead she put down her spade and picked up her basket. She moved through the gardens and up the stone steps, feeling Rodmilla's triumphant gaze burn into her back. As she walked towards the house, Rodmilla stepped in front of her. She was smiling, but the smile was mean and cruel, just like Rodmilla herself.

"Imagine! After all of your running about pretending to be a courtier to snatch the Prince's heart, you end up serving breakfast in bed to him and Marguerite on their honeymoon!"

Danielle glared at her stepmother for a long time.

"I did not risk my life simply to chase after the Prince," she muttered darkly. Rodmilla laughed again, clapping her hands together in enjoyment of Danielle's torment.

"Ah, it speaks! At long last! Tell me then, why exactly did you risk your life? Though do be careful and use small words, as you have only just learnt the power of speech. We mustn't run before we can walk, after all."

"I risked my life to save another's, but I do not expect you to know of that kind of sentiment."

Rodmilla stared icily at her step-daughter, anger burning inside her heart. She stepped aside, letting Danielle pass, but she could not resist muttering under her breath as she passed:

"You are not my problem anymore."

Danielle stopped, and turned towards her stepmother.

"Is that what I am? Your… problem?"

"Not anymore," Rodmilla repeated, smiling slyly. Danielle frowned.

"What?"

Before either of them could say any more, Paulette appeared, grinning happily. She grabbed Danielle's arm, dancing up and down.

"Danielle! Come quick! It's all back, everything's back!"

Rodmilla did not seem the little bit surprised by this announcement, but Danielle unfortunately failed to notice, as she was too busy running towards the front of the house.

There stood Pierre Le Peu, casually standing by a large cart filled with all of Danielle's father's most prized possessions. A little way off from him, Louise and Paulette were happily ordering around Le Peu's men, telling them where everything should go. Rodmilla came sauntering up the path, her face glowing with self-righteousness. She stopped beside Danielle, who glared at her, incredulous with rage.

"My father's books, his paintings…. You sold them to him?!"

"Well, of course!"

"Then why are they all back?"

"I couldn't very well have us looking like Paupers when the King arrived," Rodmilla said simply. Danielle nodded slightly, and she looked towards Pierre Le Peu.

"Thank you Monsieur," she murmured reluctantly, "this means the world to us." She flinched slightly, feeling Pierre Le Peu's eyes look over her greedily, as if she was some sort of prize.

"I'm a businessman Danielle, not a philanthropist."

The meaning of his words slowly, gradually dawned on her. If Pierre Le Peu had agreed to an exchange, then it could not be money he was after. Rodmilla did not have enough money to pay him for everything. She glanced to her step-mother, who was smiling broadly with triumph.

Suddenly, two burly men grabbed Danielle by the arms. She screamed, finally realizing exactly what had been arranged. But the burly men were too strong for her, and they continued dragging her towards the cart.

"NO! NO!" she screamed, violently struggling against them.

The thugs refused to obey her, dragging her towards the cart. Paulette and Louise gasped in horror and called out for her, their voices shrill with desperation. Rodmilla watched with a certain glee as Paulette beat at Pierre Le Peu, crying at him to let Danielle go, but he simply threw her to the ground. Another thug was holding Louise back, pushing her back into the house and away from Danielle. Maurice, having heard the noise, came running from the fields, calling out for Danielle and Louise, but another thug stopped him, throwing him to the ground as well. Danielle screamed louder, and bit one of the thugs on the arm, vainly struggling to escape, but it was no use. She was bundled into the now empty cart, and ordered by a thickset man to quieten down as Pierre Le Peu climbed into the driver's seat, and he flicked the reins of the horses, a triumphant smile on his lips. Quickly, they broke into a gallop and the cart began to move off down the path. Danielle watched as her childhood home became smaller and smaller, the last thing she saw being Rodmilla's sick, celebratory grin.


	6. Weddings & Proposals.

The Royal wedding was as expected. Practically everyone from both the French and Spanish courts was there (Rodmilla and Marguerite stood amongst them, wearing black veils to show people just how sad this occasion really was--to them at least), all of them waiting to watch their two countries be joined in that great union: marriage. Opulence shrouded the church like a black cloud; everywhere you looked there was gold, white and red. Prince Henry waited at the altar, listening with numb dread at the ominous choir. Just audible over the choir were the tortured sobs of a Spanish princess. Clearly, she did not want this marriage just as much as him. Sighing a little and adjusting his cloak, he tried not to listen as she wailed her way down the aisle, surrounded by her blank faced ladies-in-waiting. Henry dimly wondered if this was how his parents' wedding had gone. It most likely had not, and it was little comfort to think it. The princess--it had just occurred to him that he didn't even know his future wife's name--stopped beside him, and her sobs almost burst his eardrums. The singing of the choir ceased, and both he and the princess advanced towards the altar and they slowly knelt down. Even this tiny action caused the princess to wail out in pain. Desperate to save face, the priest began to chant loudly in Latin. As he did so, Henry glanced back at his parents. Marie smiled a small smile of sympathy, whereas Francis' gaze was fixed to the floor--he just wanted to get this thing over and done with. Henry turned his gaze to his future wife. Currently, she was bent over, sobbing heavily as if her heart was breaking out from under her chest and ready to explode at any minute. Thinking that he might as well see who his 'rival' was, he looked back, scanning the Spanish crowd. Near the front, he spied a bald, middle-aged, rather chubby clergyman sobbing his little heart out. So that was his future wife's great love?

In an instant, he began to laugh. And not just a small laugh that could passed off as a slight cough, but a full blown belly laugh. The crowd of guests, both French and Spanish, began to murmur and wonder at his behaviour. Had he finally been pushed over the edge? Had the Crown Prince of France actually gone insane? Even his future wife paused in her crying to stare at him in surprise. After a fairly long while, Henry's laughter subsided, and he stood up, bringing the princess with him. Having no idea what he was doing, her reaction to his behaviour was simply to babble quickly in Spanish.

"Mi señor por favor entienda que mis padres me hizo casarme contigo, pero quiero otro y él me ama también..." Henry shook his head quickly. There was no time.

"Madame… Madame!"

The Spanish princess trailed off, her tear-stained face looking at him in both shock and wonderment. Underneath all of her finery, she seemed like a pretty girl. But he was not the one to judge. He looked at the princess, his once future wife, squarely in the eyes and said, with a little smile:

"I know exactly how you feel."

Quickly, he kissed her on the cheek and gestured towards the clergyman. Finally realising, the princess began to smile, and she turned to the clergyman, who stepped forward, a look of relief and love on his face. The princess gathered up her skirts, smiling widely--her joy had rendered her almost hysterical.

"Mi querida…! Mi amor…!" Suddenly, with a cry of joy, the princess ran to the clergyman and leapt into his arms. The two of them embraced, never wanting to let each other go. Henry smiled, again glancing at his parents. Francis was white with shock, his eyes fixed on the two Spanish lovers. Marie smiled at Henry, and said nothing. She merely nodded. To this, Henry grinned. Now, he knew exactly what he had to do, and before anyone could ask him what was going on, he threw his cloak from his shoulders and ran from the church.

#

Outside, Henry saw Rodmilla's carriage, and without thinking, ran up to the driver, whom he recognised as the withered-looking old man that Danielle had saved from the Americas. He supposed he should be thankful to the old man, for if it had not been for him, he would never have found true love.

"Where is she? Where is Danielle?" he asked quickly. The old man looked pitiful.

"Oh, but she has been sold sire," he said mournfully. Henry frowned, confused.

"Sold? But… Who…?"

"Pierre Le Peu, Your Highness," a voice said behind him. Henry whirled around to see Jacqueline standing there. She grimaced as she spoke.

"She was sold just after the masque."

Henry's shoulders fell. So it was his fault. If he had been more discreet, told Danielle in private what he knew, and then maybe things would've turned out to be different. Laurent suddenly came running from the church, stopping behind Jacqueline. A plan quickly formed in Henry's mind. He looked at the old man and Jacqueline.

"Tell no-one we have spoken." He then looked towards Laurent.

"Laurent, come with me. There is much to be done, and very little time to do it in."

Henry suddenly turned on his heel and sprinted down the path. Laurent frowned and looked to Jacqueline, shrugging slightly. Jacqueline simply nodded, gesturing for him to go.

#

Laurent galloped alongside Henry, wondering what on earth was going on. He had known Henry for almost all of his life, but he had never known him to show this much conviction in his actions. The castle of Pierre Le Peu loomed ahead of them, and they easily passed through the gates. Henry suddenly called for them to stop, and Laurent could just see Danielle stumbling from the castle door, looking relieved. Henry jumped from his horse, as did Laurent. As he looked after the horses, Henry ran towards Danielle.

It was a great surprise for Danielle to see Henry running towards her. She assumed he had forgotten her. After all, she was merely a servant. They stopped in front of each other, but neither of them could think of an easy way to start the conversation. Finally, Danielle broke the silence.

"What are you doing here?"

Henry smiled sheepishly.

"I… er… came to rescue you."

Danielle couldn't help but laugh slightly. The idea of her, a commoner, being rescued by the Crown Prince of France was something that belonged in a fairy tale.

"I am nothing but a commoner," she said quietly, walking past Henry. It would be best if they just forgot each other.

"Actually, I came to apologise."

Danielle stopped.

"I failed you Danielle. I…" Henry paused, and swallowed slightly before continuing. "I was wrong." Slowly, Danielle turned. Her face, dirty, bruised and defeated, smiled.

"Say it again."

"I'm sorry."

"No… no," Danielle muttered, "the part where you said my name."

Henry smiled.

"Danielle." The way in which he said it was clear and decisive, yet also loving. Danielle smiled wider. Slowly, Henry approached her, bringing out Danielle's glass slipper. It was a little more crumpled than before, but its beauty still shone through. Much like Danielle herself.

"Perhaps, Danielle, you would be able to help me find the owner of this... rather remarkable shoe?"

Danielle's mouth gaped a little in surprise. She thought she had lost it! She stared up at Henry, who smiled at her lovingly.

"She is my match, in every possible way," he said softly, leaning closely towards Danielle so only she could hear, "please tell me that I have not lost her."

Danielle shook her head, and turned away, sitting down on a small stone wall.

"It belongs to a peasant, Your Highness, who only pretended to be a courtier to save a man's life!" she said, her voice trembling. Henry smiled.

"Yes, I've heard that," he said dryly, pausing before continuing. "And the name's Henry, if you don't mind." He smiled again and Danielle found herself smiling as well. Tentatively, he knelt down before her and looked straight into her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes.

"I kneel before you not as a Prince, but as a man in love." He paused, deliberately slipping Danielle's shoe from her foot and replacing it with the glass slipper as he spoke, saying, "But I would feel like a King, if you, Danielle de Barbarac, would be my wife."

She broke down into tears, her wide smile revealing them to be tears of utmost joy. Instantly, she nodded, and threw herself into his arms. Again and again, they kissed and told the other that they loved them, finally reunited.


	7. Revenge & Happily Ever After.

Jacqueline found it very difficult over breakfast the next morning to keep a straight face. For the first time in her life, she had power over her sister and mother. Even if they did not know it, it still pleased her.

"I don't know why you're questioning me so much," she said innocently as she ate her breakfast, "I mean, how _I_ was supposed to know he would go running out of the back door, I don't know! He was supposed to be getting married!"

Marguerite glared at her, knowing that she was hiding something. Everyone was always hiding something, even her own mother.

"I heard the Prince talked to you."

"That's just gossip," Jacqueline said primly.

"What did he say?"

Jacqueline quietly took the bread knife and cut herself a slice of bread, staring from her mother to Marguerite. She calmly buttered the bread, enjoying this new-found power of hers.

"Well, it all happened so quickly! However, I think what he said was… urm… Let me think… Oh, yes! He said, 'serves me right for choosing a foreigner over your," Jacqueline paused, taking a bite from her slice of bread before resuming her speech, "sister."

Marguerite and Rodmilla stared at each other for a moment and Jacqueline's heart beat faster. Had she been too hesitant? But then Marguerite giggled happily, as did Rodmilla. Jacqueline breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"We'll just let him fret for a few days then, shan't we?" Rodmilla said proudly, looking towards Marguerite. Jacqueline quietly counted under her breath, barely audible to her self-absorbed mother and sister.

"1… 2… 3…"

Right on cue, the bell rang. A cry of "I'll get it!" went up, and Marguerite and Rodmilla ran downstairs to the door. Jacqueline also ran to the door, but she was a little slower. After all, she wanted to savour the moment. It isn't every day that you get to help wreak revenge on your horrible mother and equally horrible sister.

#

At the door, Rodmilla and Marguerite opened the door to find Captain Laurent standing there, with the Royal carriage waiting behind him. Jacqueline watched her mother and sister with excited curiosity. Marguerite looked triumphant and almost impatient. Rodmilla looked proud as a peacock. Captain Laurent swung into action.

"His Supreme Majesty, King Francis, requests an audience with the Baroness Rodmilla de Ghent and her daughters, immediately."

Rodmilla sighed contentedly. She could see the snow-covered landscapes of Paris now. But she kept her composure. This game must be played out until the end.

"Oh? Is anything… wrong?"

Captain Laurent smiled, and shook his head.

"No my lady," he said cheerfully, his formal manner gone. He leaned forward, glancing to Jacqueline then back to Rodmilla and Marguerite.

"The king demanded that you arrive in… style."

Rodmilla smiled again, as did Marguerite. Jacqueline suppressed a giggle.

"Hmm," Rodmilla said arrogantly, "if it is style that the King wants, then style it shall be!"

Marguerite squeaked happily and ran off to get dressed. Rodmilla followed her. Jacqueline slowly closed the doors, smiling knowingly at Laurent. Knowledge, it seemed, certainly was the greatest power.

#

Trumpets played, and the Baroness Rodmilla de Ghent swept into the room, proudly and arrogantly. At last, she was ascending. For all of her hard work since she was a girl, it had paid off because finally, she was getting her reward. Yes, she'd betrayed a few friends along the way but what did it matter? She was now practically royalty. The courtiers all bowed towards her as she made her way down the aisle, flanked by her two daughters. The three of them stopped in front of the King, Queen and the Prince and curtseyed deeply. Rodmilla gazed up at the King warmly (or as warmly as she could manage anyway). His expression was not one that could be considered "warm".

"Baroness. Did you, or did you not, lie to Her Majesty the Queen of France?"

Rodmilla's smile dropped. Marguerite eyed her mother cautiously. The Queen--who had once looked upon them with kind eyes--looked at them now with a cold, critical eye.

"Choose your words wisely Madam, for they may be your last," she said.

Rodmilla could feel the eyes of the court and Marguerite burning into her back. She rose to her feet, chuckling weakly.

"Why, a mother would do… anything for the love of a daughter, Your Majesties."

This did not change either the King or the Queen's moods.

"Perhaps… I did get a little carried away…" Rodmilla admitted.

This was enough for Marguerite, who could sense that her fate would not be a good one if she let herself be dragged into this. It would be better if she separated herself from this situation completely.

"Mother, what have you done?" she cried. In a flash, she was in front of Rodmilla, staring up at the King, Queen and the Prince.

"Your Majesty, like you, I am just a victim here! She has lied to us both and I am ashamed to call her my family!"

As Marguerite desperately tried to cover herself, Jacqueline just simply rolled her eyes and let her family dig themselves into a hole. Rodmilla shoved at Marguerite, enraged by her backstabbing daughter.

"How dare you turn on me, you little ingrate!"

In retaliation, Marguerite looked to the King and Queen, pretending to appear shocked and upset.

"You see, Your Majesties, you see what I have to endure!"

The King sighed and slammed his staff on the floor, causing everyone in the room to jump slightly, even the guards.

"Silence! Both of you!" Rolling his eyes, he looked towards Jacqueline.

"Are they always like this?"

Jacqueline smiled at the King (and her smile only grew wider as Marguerite and Rodmilla stared at her, genuinely shocked).

"Worse," she said, curtseying slightly, "Your Majesty."

Rodmilla breathed in slightly, attempting to regain her composure.

"Jacqueline, darling, I hope you have had nothing to do with this."

There wasn't one iota of sympathy in Jacqueline's eyes when she looked towards her mother. She had endured years of neglect, and it had taken Danielle to show her just exactly how horrible her family was.

For years, she had justified their actions to herself--and others, at times--but the way that Marguerite and her mother had acted on that horrible day before the ball had shown her that her efforts were futile. They were always going to be cruel and horrible, no matter what she said or did. So, it was with great pleasure that Jacqueline said her next sentence:

"Of course not Mother. I'm only here for the food."

In that moment, Rodmilla realised that in favouring one of her children, she had opened an opportunity for the other to betray her. As the realization swept over her, the Queen spoke again.

"Baroness de Ghent. From this moment onwards, you are stripped of your title, and you and your horrible daughter are to be shipped to the Americas on the next available boat. Unless by some miracle, there is someone here that will speak for you."

Rodmilla advanced back down the aisle. No-one looked at her with a kind eye. They were unsympathetic and detached. She was not a part of their lives. Why should they trouble themselves to speak up for her? It was then that Rodmilla saw herself reflected in their faces. She finally could see the consequences of her actions.

#

She looked back at the King and Queen, laughing weakly. Still, no-one came forward. Rodmilla could see her once opulent life falling all around her. She could just imagine herself. Her skin grimy, wearing rags, being forced to work as a slave. That or starve to death. The very thought of the Americas… it frightened her. It actually frightened her.

"I will speak for her." She froze. Although the voice was distant, it also had the distinct warm resonance of a certain step-daughter of hers, named Danielle de Barbarac.

At the sound of the voice, the entire court--including a deeply shocked Marguerite--bowed deeply. Rodmilla slowly turned, and there stood the one daughter she had despised ever since she met her, dressed as a princess. On her head she wore a golden crown, and around her neck was the very same necklace which Marguerite had given to the Queen after church so many weeks ago.

The Prince looked at Marguerite, who was opening and closing her mouth like a fish.

"Marguerite," he said, smiling proudly at Danielle for a moment, "I don't believe you've met… my wife?" Marguerite bowed her head, finally humbled.

Rodmilla gazed at her stepdaughter, unable to think of anything to say.

"She is, after all, my stepmother," Danielle said simply. The court rose to its feet, all of them looking at the two of them. Danielle slowly moved towards her stepmother, her expression devoid of love or sympathy. Reluctantly, Rodmilla curtseyed before her step-daughter and future Queen.

"Your Highness," she murmured. Danielle spoke, her voice soft so that only she and Rodmilla could hear her words.

"I want you to know that I will forget you after this moment, and never think of you again. But you, I am quite certain, will think of me for every day of the rest of your life."

Rodmilla swallowed slightly, looking up at her stepdaughter.

"How long… might that be?" she asked softly. It both humbled and sickened her to know that her life was in the hands of her long dead husband's daughter. Danielle closed her eyes for a moment, sighed softly and then looked towards the King and Queen.

"All I ask, Your Majesties, is that you show the same courtesy to her that she has bestowed upon me for these past ten years."

Danielle looked back down to Rodmilla. She was triumphant, yet also, a tiny part of her was relieved. Finally, after everything she had gone through, she was free. Free to speak, free to think and most of all, she was free to love.


End file.
